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As the world watches in horror and helplessness the destruction of Gaza, with thousands of civilians—predominantly women and children—killed in relentless bombardments and siege, Israel’s war conduct has increasingly drawn comparisons to other counterinsurgency campaigns.

But one little-acknowledged comparison stands out: Sri Lanka’s long, bloody conflict with the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), one of the world’s most dangerous non-state armed groups. Despite serious human rights criticisms, Sri Lanka never adopted a policy of mass starvation, denial of basic humanitarian aid, or the blanket dehumanisation of civilians. In contrast, Israel’s ongoing military campaign in Gaza has embraced precisely those tactics.

The final stages of the war in 2009 were marred by allegations of high civilian casualties, disputed casualty figures, and concerns over war crimes. But even amid this brutal conflict, Sri Lanka made clear political, legal, and moral distinctions between civilians and combatants. That clarity—however inconsistently applied—provides an important model in an age when warfare increasingly targets entire populations under the guise of fighting terror.

Political and moral framing: Civilians are not combatants

Throughout its 30-year conflict, Sri Lanka’s government officially maintained that its war was against the LTTE, not against the Tamil people. Despite accusations of discrimination and military excesses, the state never framed Tamil civilians as “human animals” or legitimate targets as Israel has. It continued to provide food, fuel, and medicine to Tamil-majority areas throughout much of the war, including those under rebel control, through state agencies and with the cooperation of international organisations such as the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC) and UN agencies.

By contrast, Israeli officials have repeatedly blurred or erased the distinction between Hamas fighters and Gaza’s 2.3 million civilians. Statements labelling civilians as complicit or describing them as subhuman have inflamed accusations of genocidal intent. While Israel asserts it is targeting Hamas, the broad siege measures—including the total cutoff of food, water, electricity, and medicine—indicate a strategy of collective punishment rather than targeted counterterrorism.

Collective punishment is a war crime

Israel’s siege tactics violate multiple pillars of international humanitarian law (IHL), including:

Articles 55 and 59 of the Fourth Geneva Convention, which obligate occupying powers to ensure food and medical supplies for civilians;

Customary international law, which prohibits the starvation of civilians as a method of warfare;

The Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, which classifies starvation as a war crime under Article 8(2)(b)(xxv).

In contrast, Sri Lanka, even at the height of its military campaign, continued to allow basic supplies into conflict zones. Despite allegations that the LTTE was syphoning off government supplies to feed its cadres, convoys carrying food, medicine, and fuel were dispatched by government agents under international supervision. While there were accusations of delays and logistical manipulation, the intent was to fulfil constitutional and humanitarian obligations—not to crush a population through deprivation.

Even under enormous military and economic strain, Sri Lanka did not impose a siege or cut water supplies to conflict areas. Hospitals continued to receive basic provisions, and humanitarian corridors—albeit flawed—were periodically opened. Israel’s actions in Gaza suggest no such effort at civilian protection. Instead, Gaza has been made deliberately uninhabitable, with hospitals, schools, and refugee camps being bombed under the pretext of targeting militants.

 The civil-military distinction is not optional

In asymmetric warfare, combatants often embed themselves among civilians. But this reality does not absolve states of their duty to distinguish between the two. Sri Lanka, while accused of excessive force in the war’s final months, did not adopt a policy that equated Tamil civilians with LTTE militants. Humanitarian pauses, no-fire zones, and supply corridors—however inadequate—were attempts to uphold this distinction.

Israel’s conduct has failed this test. With Gaza under total blockade and nearly every area treated as a legitimate military target, Israel has eroded any meaningful distinction between civilian and combatant. Human rights organisations and legal scholars have pointed out that this approach amounts to war crimes and genocide.

That several Global South nations—South Africa, Bolivia, Colombia, and others—have condemned Israel’s actions or severed diplomatic ties reflects how isolated Israel is becoming. Even Israel’s allies are finding it hard to defend what increasingly looks like a war against a people, not just a group.

Humanitarian conduct builds strategic legitimacy

Sri Lanka’s experience also illustrates the strategic value of preserving humanitarian principles. While its post-war reconciliation process remains deeply flawed, its wartime conduct in areas like essential supplies helped maintain a measure of international legitimacy. The country was not accused of genocide. No major Western power cut ties or called for sanctions during the war. By contrast, Israel today faces an avalanche of international criticism—including cases filed at the International Court of Justice and the International Criminal Court.

Maintaining the flow of food and medicine is not just a legal obligation—it is a political necessity. Cutting civilians off from basic life-sustaining goods radicalises populations, fuels global outrage, and undermines the moral standing of any state that claims to defend democratic or human values.

Does Sri Lanka provide a better model?

Yes—at least in terms of wartime humanitarian access and civilian distinction, Sri Lanka provides a better, more humane model for states confronting terrorism. It faced a formidable and ruthless enemy in the LTTE, which pioneered suicide bombings, recruited child soldiers, and used civilians as human shields. Yet the Sri Lankan government did not abandon its constitutional duty to its citizens in warzones.

The following steps by Sri Lanka are instructive:

Continued government-supplied food, fuel, and medicine to rebel-held areas;

Avoidance of siege tactics like mass starvation or infrastructure sabotage;

Authorisation of international humanitarian oversight from organisations such as the ICRC and UN.

The country’s failure to fully reckon with wartime abuses is undeniable. But it did not wage a war of extermination. That basic principle separates Sri Lanka’s approach from what is unfolding in Gaza.

Conclusion: The obligation to do better

No state can claim the moral high ground while dehumanising civilians, denying them food and medicine, and destroying the conditions necessary for life. Israel’s campaign in Gaza has crossed moral and legal red lines that even nations fighting existential wars have avoided.

Sri Lanka’s experience, while imperfect, offers a reminder: brutal conflict does not require total moral abandonment. Even under immense pressure, it is possible—and necessary—to distinguish between enemy fighters and innocent civilians.

For Israel and its international supporters, the Sri Lankan precedent should prompt reflection. Security can never be bought with starvation. Military victory achieved by crushing a population will never yield legitimacy, stability, or peace.

(javidyusuf@gmail.com)